They never really leave us
by MurtaghSpamanoGirl
Summary: Francis was never able to let go of his precious Jeanne. Now, Gilbert decides it's about time to do something about it Sooooooooft yaoi


"_Francis, what is that fascination of yours?"_

_Francis looked up in surprise, watching Jeanne curiously as she polished her aroumor. It wasn't particularly a scene described as romantic, but in his eyes, the blonde girl was more beautiful than any other woman on the face of earth. _

"_What fascination, dearest?" he asked, stroking a strand of hair out of his face to see the beauty better. _

"_Love." Jeanne answered with a giggle. "You always seem to lighten up when you see a couple in love, and even more when you get to meddle in other peoples affairs."_

_Francis chuckled softly._

"_I don't meddle, my dear Jeanne. I simply give people a push in the right direction." he answered calmly._

"_You're such an odd man." Jeanne said although smiling. "So tell me, what is it that you like so much?"_

_Francis thought it over. How could he trully explain the beauty of love?_

"_It's... beautiful and complex." he finally started. "And pure."_

"_Pure?" Jeanne asked with a sceptical look. "Jellousy, possesivness... s-sex... doesn't seem very pure to me."_

_Francis sighed and went over to Jeanne, who looked at him curiously. _

"_All of that, may seem vile and terrible, but both jellousy and possesivness are ways we adapt without chosing so ourselves. They are feelings that accure because we love so deeply. As for sex..."_

_Francis kissed Jeanne's cheeck. _

"_That's just one of many beautiful ways to express your love for eachother."_

_Jeanne chuckled. _

"_Always manages to sweettalk everything." she teased. "So tell me then, what is true love?"_

_Francis clicked his tounge thoughtfully, looking for the right words._

"_True love is... when you love someone so much that you loose all attraction to anyone else. You think about the other when you go to sleep. You cry at the bare thought of them dying. And all you ever want is for them to be happy."_

_Jeanne smiled softly, the way she did when she was watching something beautiful and just felt content, just the way she'd done when she'd first talked to Francis alone, at the balchony, viewing the vast countreyside and the river in the distant. _

"_And then what?" she asked. "What happen after we die."_

"_We keep loving." Francis decided. _

_Jeanne sent him a surprised look. _

"_You make it wound as though we'll only ever have one true love."_

_Francis nodded in confirmation. Jeanne sadly stroked Francis hair with a sighed. _

"_But what happens to you then?" she asked. "If I now am your true love, what will happen to you after I, who am but a normal mortal have left this world?"_

_Francis hugged Jeanne tightly. _

"_Trully, I shall never love anyone else ever again."_

"_Never?" Jeanne asked with a frown and shook her head. "No, I wouldn't want that."_

_Francis looked up at Jeanne. _

"_Do you want me to love someone else?" he asked with a slight frown. _

"_I want you to be happy." Jeanne explained, hugging Francis as tightly as she could. "That's what true love is, right? Wanting your loved one to be happy, and you can't be happy if you live in the past forever, always missing me."_

_Francis shook his head. _

"_I will never love anyone like I love you." he exclaimed._

"_You don't know that." Jeanne whispered. _

_To Francis' disdain, Jeanne let go and (after kissing him lightly on the cheek) left the room. _

"_I have to get going now. I'm meeting up with a friend." she explained. "Good bye, Francis."_

_Good bye_

_Good bye_

_Good bye_

Francis gasped as he sat straight up in the bed, sweat dripping down his toned body and his blonde hair tangled and his blue eyes wide in shock. His chest heaved heavily and tears trickled at the corner of his eyes. A groan was heard from beside him and his eyes met with troubled ruby ones.

"What's wrong, Frenchie?" Gilbert asked tiredly, stretching out his scarred body. "It's four a.m. Did you have a nightmare?"

Francis was still too shooked up to answer his old friend. Gilbert sighed and sat up, turning the lights on to enlighten the bedroom in Gilbert's apartment in Potsdam.

"Come on Frenchie, tell uncle Gil what's on your mind."

Francis chuckled sadly at how ridiculous Gilbert sounded.

"I dreamt of her." he whispered finally, his voice uncharactaristingly week.

Gilbert didn't have to ask to know who _she _was. He knew very well. It was the same as the times before this. Gilbert sighed. He was worthless at being supportive, and he was one of the last people who would randomly hug people. As usual, the only thing he could do was sit there and listen as Francis poured his heart out.

"Tell me." he said absentmindidly.

Francis smiled and told the albino of the dream, not missing out on a single detail, and Gilbert listened patiently, adding questions every now and then to assure the Frenchman that he was still listening. He couldn't remember how many times he'd done this with Francis, just silently listening to his desperate recollecting of the past. It bothered him, to be honest. This was a side that rarely anyone ever saw of him. He knew very well that he was the only one who actually saw these sides of him. Always the same. Whenever he'd had that dream, he'd go to Gilbert. Everytime he interferred too much with a relationship, making people angry at him again, he'd go to Gilbert. Every time he got into a fight with someone, be it Arthur, Alfred, Russia, Germany... whoever it was, in the end, he would end up at Gilbert's house, face broken into a twisted smile and body covered in bruises. Each time Gilbert would care for his wounds, with the same practiced ease that Francis had once used on Gilbert after the wall had finally fallen. And each time he'd laughed halfheartidly, telling his friend that he should stop getting into useless fights. Each time, Francis would give a false promise that he would try to do so. By the time Francis had finished his story, Gilbert was prepared for the usual routine. Gilbert would give him an awkward pat on the head, telling him it's all in the past and it's going to be okay. Francis would give him an unconvincing smile, then turn off the lights, and go to yet another unruly sleep, once again failing to resolve any of his problems. At this point, and many times before, Gilbert wanted nothing more than to just slap his friend and order him to stop being such a selfharming bastard.

"Sometimes, it feels like no one can ever understand what this is like to me."

Gilbert blinked a few times, surprised at hearing how absolutely delirious Francis had become. Instead of following the normal routine, Gilbert got out of bed and started to get dressed.

"Get up, Frenchie and get dressed." he said to the blonde who was staring at him in surprise. "We're going on a field trip."

It was Francis turn to blink this time, unable to understand what the albino was aiming at.

"It's half past four in the morning." he said tiredly, his body drained from energy after crying.

"Perfect time to go out." Gilbert declared as he threw a change a clothes on Francis' head.

Francis huffed but despite this, got dressed and got out of bed. Gilbert headed to the modern kitchen and grabbed his keys along with his wallet.

"It's cold outside so make sure to get dressed properly." Gilbert reminded, wrapping a thick scarf around Francis' neck, and then one around his own, before continuing until both were fully dressed for the cold night outside.

And before long, they were walking down the snowy streets. Even though it was past Christmas, Francis noted a few Christmas-decoration still hanging around, and he had no doubt that this street would be crowded in just a few hours. He could easily imagin Gilbert rushing down these streets to find the best bar possible. But now it was empty. And Gilbert wasn't rushing. Instead, he was walking rather peacefully, looking to be in deep thoughts.

"Gilbert, we were up till two, and now you're forcing me out again." Francis sighed. "Can't you just wait with this until morning, or tomorrow, or next week?"

Gilbert stared at Francis as though trying to say that "obviously they couldn't wait." Gilbert suddenly slowed down (to Francis' relief) and stopped outside a small flower-shop. He stared at it thoughtfully. Francis could only watch and wonder why on earth his albino friend was staring at flowers. As far as he remembered, Gilbert found flowers to be... unawesome. Still, they stayed there for a couple of minutes, neither saying a word (Francis had the feeling that asking wouldn't make a difference.) At long last Gilbert said:

"Okay, I've made up my mind."

Francis let out a surprised squeak as Gilbert raised his fist and rammed it into the large displaywindow, causing it to shatter into millions of pieces and the alarm to set off.

"What are you doing?" Francis hissed, spinning around to see if anyone was around.

"I need flowers." Gilbert said, picking an already done buqet from a bucket.

From the corner of his eyes, Francis could see police-lights at the end of the street.

"Gilbert." he hissed.

Gilbert saw them too, and quickly grabbed Francis' hand before they started to run. They ran a long while until they were sure that no one was following them until they finally stopped. Francis gasped slightly from the unexpected and intense running-session, and suddenly realized where he was.

"Sanssouci." he whispered in awe. "Gilbert, why did you bring me here?"

"I'll show you." Gilbert promised, pulling Francis along again.

The castle and it's garden was huge but Gilbert easily manouvered among the outlines of the old castle, until he stopped, presenting to Francis a barely noticeble door in the wall, well hidden behind thick ivy brenches. In the summer, this was most likely even more covered, and not even the sharpest eyes would be able to spot it.

"Come on." Gilbert whispered and pulled the little door open.

Francis couldn't object and let the Prussian lead him through the garden and the castle, telling random stories of the time he'd spend there during the summers, and the Frenchman could see before his inner eye how Gilbert would have rushed through these halls creating misshievs. And before he knew it they were standing before a grave.

_Friedrick the Great_

"Fritz was the best damn king I've ever had." Gilbert said, as he placed the buqet from earlier before the grave and sat down on the cold floor. "He was kind, smart and a musican genious."

Francis sat down next to Gilbert, trying to understand the motive behind why Gilbert was telling him this.

"_...no one can ever understand what this is like to me." _Gilbert said, repeating Francis' former words. "You seem to think that you're the only who's lost a loved one."

Francis was taken aback by the coldness in Gilbert's voice, and felt a pang of guilt as he realized just what Fritz had ment to Gilbert.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"Do you know something Fritz told me once, by the time he was nearing his last days?"

Francis looked curiously at Gilbert, waiting for him to continue.

"He told me: _Even after I'm dead, I won't leave you._"

Gilbert had a bit of a melancholic gleam in his eyes.

"I think..." Gilbert continued. "After we die, we will be in the air around our loved one, until they find love again."

"And then what? They just leave us?" Francis asked with a dejected look.

Gilbert shook his head.

"After that, they will unite with the new lover, so they can always look after them, and amke they're happy." Gilbert explained, turning around so he was facing Francis.

"_I want you to be happy." _Jeanne's words echoed in his head.

"And where is Fritz now?" he asked with a sad smile.

To Francis' surprise, instead of answering, Gilbert's hand went up to Francis' hair that had quickly been pulled into a pony-tail when they left.

"You know, when you wear it like that, it sort of looks like Fritz' used to do."

Francis blinked a few times to try and recollect what Gilbert meant.

"Is that a confession?" he asked finally.

Gilbert looked away awkwardly. Was it really necessary to ask that?

"Take it however you want." he muttered.

Being romantic really wasn't his thing.

Francis released a laugh of relief.

"So tell me, Gilbert. Where is Jeanne in all of this."

"Right here." Gilbert said, clutching his hand over his heart. "You're Jeanne made me a braver man and gave me the will power to keep fighting."

"That sounds like her." Francis chuckled.

They sat silently for a few moment before Gilbert finally stood up, stretching out his limps. With the warmest smile he could muster, he offered his rough hand to Francis' slim and delcate ones. Francis accepted it.

"Do you think it's true?" Francis asked as they walked back through the castle, to the hidden door.

"I don't know." Gilbert said with a shrug. "Right now, I'm getting the urge to fight against Eyebrows. That's got to be the Jeanne in me."

Francis chuckled.

"How about you, Frenchie. Do you feel a sudden urge to repremend me on my fashion and behaviour?"

Francis answered with a soft smile as he looked the Prussian over.

"Maybe I do." he muttered.

Gilbert enterwined their fingers and smile genuinly.

"Se, we're influenced by those we've lost." he said. "This way, they never really leave us."


End file.
